We Rise, We Fall
by ChoNeun
Summary: Feelings are hard, but while Dave's in Las Vegas, he's gonna have to deal with it. A story with no real aim that was made up on the fly.
1. Dave: Find Your Brother

You walk down the dark streets. The street lights overhead are starting to flicker dangerously. It's just like some sort of bad thriller movie, you realize, but that has nothing to do with your _main_ objective. You have to find that stupid twin of yours. He walked out earlier; Bro and Sis had egg on their faces, so someone must've said something that was just a bit _too much_. Or at least that's what you managed to understand with your sweet deductive skills. Nothing gets by you, but let's just hope for the sake of it all that your deductions are correct, Sherlock.

On a whim, you cut through an alleyway. The ground has potholes; some are filled with water. You realize that little fact when your converse splashes something wet onto the bottom of your right pants leg. You could manage with one wet leg. It feels weird though, but you'll be alright. You eventually stumble over where his hiding spot is, if this could be classified as anything like that.

He's sitting underneath a small outdoor lighting unit smoking a cigarette. His left hand is holding the cancer stick to his lips, and you can make out the tips of his right fingers which have buried themselves in his fringe. You watch him from where you're standing, and he lifts his head quickly, head hitting the wall so hard that it makes _you_ wince. His left hand pulls the cigarette away with a snatch, and the smoke twists into the air. The smoke bends slowly underneath the light and wafts away quietly into the darkness. Your red eyes follow the lazy movements. You can just barely make them out, but a raspy "What are you doing here?" snaps you out of your daze.

"I came looking for you; what happened, man?" You shove your hands in your pockets and shift your weight. Approaching your twin now would be like going near an angry bear. You prefer to keep your distance just in case.

"Sis and Bro just ganged up on me. It was a rousing game of 'Fuck the Strider' with me as the main focus." He flicks the cigarette away with a grimace. "Can't even make good fucking runaways my mind is so fucked up." This he grumbles to himself.

You take a few steps forward, and he leans his head back. He doesn't tell you to stay back so you don't. You walk over to the opposite side of the alleyway from him and sit down. The ground was damp, but nothing worth complaining over. You mirror his sitting position—right leg up, left leg out.

"Talk to me," you say flatly, leaning your head back and looking up to the dark sky visible between the buildings. "What happened earlier?"

He grunts. "Sis and Bro were being serious for once, and we all decided to sit down and talk about just the future. Sis doesn't want to stay here anymore. Neither do I to be honest. Bro says that he's comfortable stayin' out in Houston since he can just sit on his riches whenever, but me..." As he talks, he lowers his head and slides his fingers through his hair. When he trails off, there's a few seconds of silence, heavy silence. You're good enough not to interrupt. "I don't know, man. Vegas' the best city for what I can do. Music's good and everything but not really something that I can kick back on, you know. That's Bro's thing. That's _your _thing."

There's another silence, and he looks skyward again. You look down your nose through the bottom open space under your shades towards him. You're not sure if he's doing the same, but your eyes go back up to the sky and keep focus there. He lets out a scoff and tilts his head, causing you to look back to him; you can see the rueful smile on his face. 

"You know I can't even rap?"

You sit your head up and look at him straight on. "What, seriously?"

"Yeah, man. It's a fucking tragedy, right?"

"In this household it is. I know you and Sis don't do hash raps, but this is, like, a tradition, dude. It's how you earn your wings."

Dane shakes his head in another laugh and tilts his head back, raising his left hand up. He moves his index and middle fingers together like scissors.

"Well consider me clipped," he says, a trace of humour in his voice.

"So what are we going to do about this? You can't keep living if you can't throw a fresh rhyme, bro. What're _you_ gonna do?"

Dane lets out a dramatic sigh and drops his hand on his outstretched left leg. "Ooh, I don't know, man. I'm going to have to pick up the cards and start working my way up from the bottom. I'll have to rob this town of its money to repress the fact that I can never carry a rapping tune."

"That's the way to become a derelict, my friend."

He smirks; you smirk. It's all good. You're both gonna have to sit down and really talk on this soon, but right now at least he's in good spirits. He makes a move to stand, and you follow.

"Thanks. Now let's get out of this shit hole," the older Strider says to you.

You scoff and raise your left hand to punch him in the arm when you're beside him. "You're the one who came here first."

"Every bird needs its nest, man."

"Yeah?" You say, looking back over your shoulder. "Well this is shit."


	2. Follow the Leader

He hasn't said anything since that night. It's been a couple of days, and you've been too caught up in, well, being a Strider to sit down and have a decent conversation with Dane. Really, the case has been that Bro and Sis have alternatively dragged you out of the house to show you around. Mostly it was to get in touch with some of the gig runners at the clubs on the strip. You weren't interested in talking shop with some of the club owners, but their venues seemed like they drew a lot of traffic. It was a tug-of-war between your sensible side and your utter lack to give a fuck. Bro and Sis kept trying though. They figured that, since you're eighteen now, you'd want to get a jump on your musical career.

So... What was Dane going to do?

"C'mon, Dave. Get off your ass," Sis says as she walks past the couch you're laying on. She's pulling on a jacket and looking down at you.

"Actually—"

"Actually," cuts Bro's voice as he appears in the recliner off to the right of the couch. He's checking out his nails with a smirk on his face. "I'm taking the tyke out this time around. Why don't you sit around and get old for a bit?"

"What'd you say?" Sis snaps, spinning around to look towards your brother.

"_Actually_," you start again, sitting up. "I'm kicking it with Dane today, whenever he gets back."

The older two look down to you, and you look back and forth between the pair.

"Where are you two going?" Bro and Sis ask in perfect harmony.

Eerie. You shrug and relax against the couch, throwing your arms over the back. "His house, his rules. He's gonna show me the ropes, and I'm just tagging along like a cat fixated."

Bro snorts. "He's gonna leave you in the middle of nowhere."

"I know I would," Sis adds on as she jumps over the couch, throwing an arm over your shoulders. "There are wolves out there, kiddo. Be safe."

She rubs her knuckles against the crown of your head. You roll your eyes and try to shrink away from the "affectionate" gesture. The front door opens a few moments later, and Dane steps into the living room. "Let's go," is all he says and who are you to waste time?

"I'm outta here," you say as you vanish out of her grasp. You reappear in front of Dane, smoothing down your hair.

He smirks. "Looking good."

"Shut up and get out," you say, reaching for the door.

As you two are making your way out, Sis calls after you two:

"Bring back some Cheetos!"

"Fat chance!" Dane yells back. You close the door behind you both.

"So where _are_ we going?" you ask walking down the sidewalk.

"Down to the strip. Gonna show you where I've been working for the past seven years."

"You work?" You throw back with a scoff. "Those dainty little fingers don't look like they've ever seen a good day's work." You roll back your sleeve and reach your right hand out to him. "Check out a real man's hand."

He takes your arm just below the wrist and pulls you closer to make you lose your balance. Dick. He smirks and adjusts his shades with his free hand. You can see his orange hues searching over the callouses on your fingers and the small bruise on the right side of your wrist. There were scars on your fingers, barely visible now, but you got each of those little fuckers from dealing with vinyl records, their packaging and just from running some tracks. He lets you go without a word, but you're still peering at the side of his face. You want a reaction out of him. Can't let the banter go dead like a fish out of water.

"You look like you got fucked up by an elf," Dane says, face flat. Perfect poker face actually.

The observation causes you to choke on a laugh. You sidestep awkwardly and hunch forward, chuckling. That's ridiculous.

"That's really fucking stupid!" you throw back. You throw a good punch to his shoulder, and he raises his right hand up to rub over the spot. The stoic expression doesn't fall. Very good. "What kind of expression is that: 'fucked up by an elf.'"

"It is what it is, bro. Looks like someone was playing tiddlywinks over your fingers, man. Nice little scrapes you got there." He points his thumb towards your hand, and you look down instinctively. "DJ'ing's gonna be good to you, Dave."

"Yeah? You think so?" You can't stop a cocky little smirk from forming on your face.

He glances over towards you and pushes you by the face. You chuckle, why not.

"Yeah, I think so." He smirks and looks away, staring at the buildings on the Boulevard. He raises his left hand, lazily quirking his hand for you to follow as he drifts off to the right. "C'mon. We're almost there."


	3. The More You Know

"What's with you and alleyways?"

"Actually, I sit here while I wait, but overall I work in there."

"Not answering the question."

"Dude, shut up."

You're standing beside a shitty ass table that was covered with a navy blue material. You can't really describe it, but you just know that you _never_ want to touch it again. People are walking by the alley on the sidewalk. Some glance over towards you two—a few girls stopped. Well, why wouldn't they? You're getting tired of standing outside and are starting to wonder why you're not inside yet. If it was closed, Dane would've known if he really did work here. The metal door slammed open, and an older male leaned out into the alley, a gruff look on his face.

"Strider!" he snaps, looking down to Dane.

Both of you turn your heads towards the other male, but Dane is the one who replies.

"Sup?"

"I wasn't sure if Teresa was losin' it when she said you were here. What're you doin' out here?" Dane stands up as he talks and makes his way over. "C'mon in, I guess. We got some early risers."

"Thanks," Dane replies, "but I'm not here to work. Just showin' this guy around."

He lifts his head and peers over Dane's head towards you. "Who's this, ya doppelganger?"

You hear the slight laugh and know that there's a smirk. Dane turns slightly and looks back towards you. Yup, there it is.

"That's my bro."

You fight the urge to straighten your posture and give a casual smirk, but it's pretty hard. For some reason, small things got you like that, but you'd be damned if you gave Dane the satisfaction of knowing that.

"One of 'em anyway," Dane says, looking away. He walks up the stone steps to the inside. "I'm still the one and only."

"'One and only'?" The guy repeats, giving a humorous look to the back of Dane's head. "What d'ya mean? He's got your face and everything."

"Well," you begin, raising up and tapping your shades. "Not everything."

The light behind you disappears as the door closes solidly. You hear the male move, and he motions his hand toward the rest of the interior as he walks towards the bar.

"Make yourself at home," he mumbles.

Dane waves a hand in acknowledgement without looking towards him from what you can see. "Will do. My set's back here. I go with the high rollers."

You raise a brow and take a gander at your surroundings, feeling slightly impressed as you notice the scenery change towards the _nouveau riche_. He leads you further back towards the rooms for the big shots. A couple of doors are opened, and you can see the wine coloured interior. Strings of gold hang decoratively from the ceiling, and there's a dark wood table in front of the lighter red sofa. It was subtle and classy in a way that says "Fuck yeah, I have money". You liked that for some reason, but you weren't the type to flash your cash.

"Pretty exclusive, man," you mumble, still staring at the open rooms as you pass by.

"Yeah," he says, turning towards you as he stops in front of a room. "I guess so."

He pushes down on the handle and opens up the room. It's pitch black at first, but when Dane flips the switch, you couldn't stop the little whistle that slipped past your lips.


	4. Play to Win

You walk into the private game room, and it doesn't look like the others. The interior was more of a dried-blood-on-the-concrete colour to you, maybe a little darker. There's black furnishings, but there's also the _smallest_ hints of orange throughout the room. You could see it. Dane walks over to the card table; you stand in front of the door with your hands in your pockets.

"I hate to admit it, but I'm impressed," you say, looking around slowly.

"If I had a dollar every time I heard that," he replies, pulling a deck from his side of the dealer's table. "Oh wait."

You look to the corner of your eyes towards him, and he has a smug smile on his face. His mouth lifts up slightly on his left side, and you could barely see the white teeth between his lips. _That_ was a shit-eater's smile; _that_ was the kind of smile that could charm and rob you all in one go. Good thing you were smart enough to never bet against him.

There was a black sofa and a smaller table directly across from where Dane was. You make your way over towards your brother and sit down in the swivel bar stool. You start twisting your lower body side to side as you stare down at the green table top. Ugly.

"Havin' fun?" Dane asks, shuffling the deck lazily.

"Yeah, I guess. This is hideous though." You poke the green surface and peer up to Dane. "C'mon, show me some of your tricks."

"I'm not in that kind of business," he says. You roll your eyes. "Plus, I'm no magician."

"Smart ass," you grumble, drawing your hand back. "Let's play something. Deal me a set."

"Blackjack or Baccarat?"

"Baccarat."

"Blackjack it is then."

"The hell did you ask me for?"

There's that smile again, even you were starting to distrust it. He starts to shuffle like the pro he is and deals out some cards. You stare at the face up Queen and wonder if you should take your chances without looking. Nah, you weren't that stupid. You slap your hand over the cards and draw them close, folding them up to look at the face down card.

"So what's all this about?" you begin, glancing up to the dealer. "When'd you take up smoking?"

He's moving the cards together between his hands. The cards fall between his opening and closing palms expertly. Even though he's holding his hands at an angle, none of the cards dare to stray from his grasp. He raises a brow, staring down at you before he sighs. There's no immediate response, but he deals himself two cards and places both hands on the surface.

After a pause, he points towards your cards with his free hand. "What's your verdict?"

You lift up the cards again and stare them down for a moment. "Hit me."

He flips you a card.

"Took it up when I was sixteen," he begins. "School was stressing me out, but it was just a kid thing—just some tests, just some girls. Stuff that doesn't really matter now, but then it seemed to be everything, you know."

"Yeah, but it's still pretty stupid."

"Got me through hard times." He snorts. "What's this: honesty hours with the Striders?"

He taps a finger on the green table face. He knows what he has; you figure he's just waiting on you.

"Hit me," you say with an upnod and a quirk of your fingers.

He throws another card.

"Sis found out and kicked my ass over it. Said I was too young and she didn't want me fuckin' up my lungs, but that just made me do it more. Then it got to the point where she got tired of yelling and soon I was buyin' up illegally every other week." He shrugs and taps the table again before dragging his hand over his cards. "Nothing to worry about."

"Can't lose you to cancer or some shit, man. That shit's not pretty."

"You're telling me."

You flip your cards over. A Queen, a two, a five and a three. Lucky, you. Dane takes up his topmost card and flips over the face down with it. Two Kings. Without a word, he swipes your cards and gathers them with his own. He shoves the six over to the side, and you stare at them curiously. Taken out easily and not a change on his face.

"What d'you care for? It's not like you to reach out a helping hand," he says as he deals out another set.

You stare down at the top card—Ace of Hearts—and then glance up to him.

"C'mon. I'm not a soulless prick."

He tips his head down and looks at you over the top of his shades.

You flip him off and roll your eyes. "Let me rephrase: even I feel the twinge of guilt and pain and shit. I'm a real boy after all." You sit up and shrug, flipping your right hand over as you did. "Besides, when one of us gets into some emotional business, it's best to figure out what's going on, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," he says like he doesn't believe you.

He takes a look at the cards he dealt to you, and his right hand goes to work. You see the digits moving, fingers tapping against the pad of his thumb before they stop suddenly. It was almost robotic. He stops suddenly, and he bites on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Huh," is all that comes out of him before his hand relaxes. You tap the table twice. You've seen it in the movies but wasn't sure if that was how it worked. He deals you another card, and you let out a short chuckle, feeling like a proud little kid suddenly.

"You gonna tell me what you're gonna do about Bro and Sis' thing?" you ask as you lower yourself down to the table.

You look to your brother, and you're sure he can see your red eyes over the lens. With a sigh, he raises a hand up and rubs his face, shrugging up a shoulder. The next three words make you frown deeply because you don't like hearing them out of his mouth—that mouth on a face that was basically yours. You've been there. You've said those three words too.

"I don't know."


	5. Call of the Wild

You're not really sure how many games you both played, but you got your ass handed to you enough times to know that you were right in never wanting to bet real money against Dane. He's holding the remaining cards in his right hand with both of his brows raised in a silent question. You sit silently for a second before shaking your head. No, no more of this; you had enough of losing hypothetical money.

"I surrender," you say, holding both hands up. "You are the master."

He chuckles, adding the remaining cards to the steadily growing pile.

"You bet I am. Now where should I take my bro next? From the looks of it, nowhere you can lose money, so we might as well get off the strip."

"Fuck you, man." You sit back in your stool and cross your arms over your chest. "Let's get something to eat. We've done the typical ne'er-do-well discussions over cards."

"'Ne'er-do-well'?" Dane repeats pointedly.

"I've been living with Bro for a long time. Some shit rubs off on you."

"Right." He drags out the word as though he doesn't believe you. He puts the cards away in their box and shoves it back in its proper place. "Alright; let's get something to eat, any ideas?"

You shrug. "I'm up for anything."

"Then let's go for Chang's right up the street."

He makes a move to leave the table, and you get out of the stool. Well, it was good while it lasted, being treated like a big wig without the high stakes that is. He follows you out of the room and turns off the light.

"Where's it at? Here on the strip?" you ask, looking over your shoulder.

"Yeah," he says, pulling a pack from his pocket. "Follow me."

He smoked while you two were making your way to the restaurant. It's still weird to you, just because you know how Sis is. Striders treated their bodies like a temple. It was important to stay on top of training, to push your bodies to the limit, and to make sure that nothing fucked up with your health. It was all key for survival. Yeah, you all had that _one_ questionable hobby, but it was nothing that interfered with your life, not really. So to see Dane smoking was, well, kind of a big deal, but you could easily see how Sis could get tired of preaching the same old story to a thick headed bozo like this guy.

Yeah, you could _understand_ it, but you didn't _like_ it.

He flicks his cigarette away when you get to the restaurant. The white architecture is appealing to you, but you wouldn't sit around gawking at it. The cool chill of the interior greets you as you enter the building. A friendly waiter, a nice table and you two get yourselves situated. You look around while settling down. This place is so very _Chinese_. Not in a bad way, no no. It's just a big dose of culture to go along with your Wonton Platter. You think of all the Americanized pseudo-food you were used to eating at home, but 'ey, when in Rome.

"You're paying for this date, you know that right," you state, not looking to the other male.

Dane looks up from his menu. "What, no way. We're splitting this halfway."

"How do you know I brought money?"

"The look of relief in your eyes every time you lost your cards."

Your brows move together. "How the hell did you—"

"It's my _job_ to know that. Now shut up and get ready to split the bill. Don't worry; I'll make it worth your while."

You scoff and open up your menu. "Fuck, man. I'm not made of money."

"Bull. Shit."

You shake your head. Can't argue with that. You're barely paying attention to the food items; your mind is going over another important issue a few times. Got to be gentle with this kind of thing. It was a lot like doing brain surgery. After all, feelings are hard. You're staring at the menu long enough that the waitress makes her way over towards your table; you both order, and she takes away your menus. It's not long before she comes back with your drinks and leaves you two alone again.

"'Ey, bro. I got somethin' for ya," you say, picking up your drink.

"Hm?"

You hold up a finger and take a sip of your drink. Now that you think about it; you were a little rusty for this, but he'd have to manage. You place the drink down, and you start spitting out some beats. You bob your head side to side, hands moving abstractly to the rhythm coming out of your mouth. Dane moves to the beat, head tilted down towards his drink. You wrap it up and point towards him, as though to hinting for him to pick it back up. He flicks his eyes up towards you, and you can see the orange eyes over the top of the shades. He lifts his head up and pushes up his lens, facing you. You shake your head and start beat-boxing again, changing the beat for him to pick up on. This time, before you can finish, he starts off with a throaty record-scratch and adds the bass to your tunes. He leans back and moves his hand side to side, index and middle fingers extended with his thumb lifted up. A group of four walks by your table and looks down to you two. You glance up but hardly give them the attention. Personal bonding time, sorry. No room for spectators.

When it's over, you two reach over the table and slap hands, curling your fingers and locking them together before pulling away with a snap and a point. Some people from the other tables applaud, and you two look up with a laugh. The small group of spectators had settled down at their table but turned to applaud as well. At least others were being entertained.

The waitress comes by and sets up her tray to start shelving out your food. There's a lot to eat, but somehow, you'll manage. Did they have a time limit on eating? Damn, you hope not.

"So what was that about?" Dane asks, pulling the soup closer to him. "The beat-boxing, I mean."

"Just felt like kicking out some beats. You're not _that_ bad. Actually, I think Bro might be proud."

"He better be," he snaps back indignantly. "He's been harassing me on Skype for the past month over it."

You scoff. "Dude's crazy."

"You're telling me."

You got clay pot beef stew. Why, you'll never know, but it looks full of all sorts of goodness. Why wait? The food's good and the conversation plentiful. Just a nice day out away from the crazies at home. Actually the food is really good; you might have to take some to go, shit. Dane places his bowl on top of yours and scoots his empty rice plate to the side. You stack your bowls on top of each other and lean back. It was time to make room for dessert, and yes, you are taking some food to go.

You adjust your shades and point to the other Strider.

"We're gonna hang out tonight, just you and me. I think I can fix your problem, which isn't as big as it seems to be at first."

Dane tips his head to the side, fingers creeping towards one of your plates, "What're you talkin' about."

"We're coming back to the strip later tonight. I'm gonna draw out that inner beast." You pick up your fork. "Other than that, don't worry about it."

You move your hand down to stab at the back of his hand, and suddenly one of your beef strip-things is gone. Your mouth twitches downward in the left corner, and his quirks up. Fuck that. You were going to steal one of his-

"Dude, did you seriously eat it all?" Your brows shoot up. "That's five fucking plates of food."

"Live and learn, man. Plus I gotta keep food in my stomach."

"Sis run you ragged?"

"In every possible way, got damn." He runs his fingers through his hair and lets his palm rest against his forehead. "But yeah, I'm game for your little plan, bro."

He lowers his hand and curls it into a fist. You reach up and tap it with your own. He smirks; you smirk. It's all good.


	6. Where Making This Happen

When you get back to the townhouse, you deposit your carry-out into the fridge, which still makes you flinch when you open the door. Bro raised you right. Yeah. Whatever. You threaten both of the oldest siblings to stay away from your food, but you'd doubt they'd listen. You know they won't eat anything; you almost wish they would. You just didn't want to go back and find bits of smuppet in your food. Maybe you should have locked your take-out in a vault. What a waste.

You bust into Dane's room—not that you had to—and crash on his bed. He looks over his shoulder towards you from his closet and raises a brow. You raise one back. No one says anything. There's that.

"Who spends one-fifty on food?" Dane begins, turning back towards his closet.

You raise up your hands and point your thumbs at yourself. "This motherfucker right here and of course you. I didn't eat Benjamin's weight in food alone."

"You sure? You were really getting at that beef, man."

You toss one of his throw pillows at the back of his head. He doesn't dodge. In fact, he just takes the hit with a chuckle.

"You're a fat ass," you reply.

He turns towards you and points at his stomach. He cocks his head to the left. "The ladies would disagree."

"Porn mags don't count, bucko."

He picks up the pillow and makes like he's about to throw it at you. You raise up your arms to protect your face, but you can see the smirk slide across his lips. He flashes over to you, pillow grasped in both hands. He shoves his hands down into your stomach, and the air rushes out of you, body curling around the place of impact. Fuck this guy.

You grab him by the arm closest to you and pull him down before rolling over and pinning him down wrestling style. "Dude, what the—dammit!" he shouts, but fuck that, you're not getting up. He catches onto your sweet restraining tactic and bucks out of your grip, sending you rolling to the floor. You sit up quickly, arms raised and prepared to take him down, but he's just laying on his back, looking down at you. Guess the game is over.

You adjust your shades and smooth down your hair as Dane sits up and does the same. Birds of a feather... He looks down to you before looking up towards his clock.

"It's six-fourteen. When do you want to go out?"

"You shrug. "When does the strip get interesting?"

"Bout ten, ten-thirty."

"Guess we're going out at ten."

"Pretty fucking late, dude."

You put a hand behind yourself, supporting your weight. "What, you scared, man?"

"Dude, I fucking live here. Of course I'm not afraid."

"Then get the candy out your ass, and let's do this."

Dane stands up and walks over towards his computer. "Yeah, yeah. We'll go."

You look over towards him and watch him load up his computer. Boring. Where's the synth set he talked so much about? He push yourself up from the ground and walk across the room to a waist-high bookcase with a black case sitting on top of it. You come around to the back and look down. The case was opaque, and you could see the various buttons and switches just barely. Looks good. You slide your fingers under the case and lift it up, removing it from the synthesizer. It was all pretty high tech, but you flip the switch and decide to give it a go.

You're not really good at it.

Dane spins around after a few minutes of your awkward fumbling and walks over.

"Back up. Let me show you how it's done," he says to you. You step away from the equipment. "Why don't you go work on Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff while I do this?"

"Hella Jeff," you say simply.

"Hella Jeff? What happened to Sweet Bro?"

"Shit gets real."

He scoffs and adds a muttered, "Whatever." before bending down out of the way. This time, you're close enough to see what he's doing. Apparently, this "bookcase" has a hollowed back that's actually a cabinet, and that's where the rest of his sweet equipment is hidden. You nod slowly in appreciation and walk over to the computer. Soon Dane's mixes fill the air, and you just kick back and listen.

Unable to sit quiet for too long, you decide to rap along to what he was pushing out. He glances up to you but joins in here and there. Sometimes he throws out some sharp rhymes; other times, he just gives back a "yeah" or an "uhn" to fit in with your words. Of course, he had his moments when he's purposefully obnoxious, but you can let him have those.

For now.

Nine forty-five rolls around, and the two of you are getting redressed for the limelight. Might as well do it up since you were in Vegas. Bro had packed your black suit for some reason. He got it for you when you announced you were getting ready to paint the town. That's not weird to you, not at all. Of course not.

Creep.

The tips of your fingers swish your messy bangs over your forehead. You're not going to do anything to them, but some part of you thought about it. Would it be a gesture of irony if you slicked your fringe where they waved to the side and then clung to your face. Something like how Bro's looked sans slicking. Was it ironic _enough_ for you to be assed to do it?

Yeah maybe, but you weren't shooting for 'douchebag' today. Dane throws on his black suit and orange button down and glances over to you.

"'Ey, you ready?" he asks.

You open the bedroom door and step out. "Born to be."

Bro and Sis are nowhere to be found; you're not sure if they're here or outdoors. You wonder, for a fleeting moment, if there's anything in your food, but you can only wait and see. Right now, you were stepping out. It didn't take long to get down to the strip. It was about ten-fifteen by the time you both get there. It would have been a hell of a long trip by foot, but you both took a cab. Who called for it? You don't remember Dane ringing up somebody, but hell, anything was possible with your family's speed. Like the older Strider promised, Vegas was alive and well; the bright lights wiped away the sky above. Now all you needed was a camera set just below the two of you, panning around and showing of your identical smirks. Maybe one day. Dane hit you in the shoulder with the back of his hand and led you towards one of the buildings. You glance up at the name in shining lights before following him inside. The light starts to get dimmer the further in you both go, but the hall is draped in red-velvet. You take a hand out of your pocket and drag the tips of your fingers along the way. Yeah, you're looking bad ass now, especially with Dane to your left. This would make a good slow-mo in a movie.

You two find a small table near the bar and look over towards each other. You both nod and turn towards the stage as the room goes pitch black. The other patrons begin to clap, and you and Dane do so as well. Vaudeville music starts to play. You feel a hand clasp over your shoulder and pull you down. You raise both brows as you feel the side of Dane's hand press against your temple.

"Happy birthday to us."

You chuckle and turn your head towards his. You feel him shift. "Yeah, happy birthday."

The girls that sang were pretty good, especially since they actually _sang_ the songs they were performing. When one of the girls started doing a feather fan routine, you realize now that Dane dragged you into a burlesque bar. You glance over to him with a sharp movement of your head, but he's already looking at you, both shoulders shrugged up and a comical smile on his face. You could make out that cheesiness even in the dim light that reached your table. He knew. You shake your head and look away, enjoying the rest of the show. Might as well, the music is good and the chicks are hot. Win win for everyone.

"So what's your big plan?" Dane asks you as you two walk out after the show.

"Follow me." You walk past him down the sidewalk.

He watches you go before jogging after you. "You know where you're going?"

"I better. I've seen it enough over the past few days."

He falls quiet and you're sure he's looking at you, waiting for you to elaborate. He'll just have to keep waiting. You direct his path through the crowd, and he stays close enough to not get lost. Occasionally you glance up to the neon signs to make sure you're going the right way, but when there's noticeable gap in blinding imagery, you know you're in the spot. Dane begins to make his way past you up the steps and towards the doors, but you reach forward and grasp his shoulder. He looks down to you.

"Nah, man. We're not going in there," you say, a smirk forming over your lips. "Tonight, out here's your stage."

His lips part as though he's about to say something, but he looks towards the sidewalk and then down to you again, wondering if you're serious. It's written all over his face. You nod slowly.

"Yeah, man. We're making this happen."


	7. Never Say Die

Dane was quiet, _really_ quiet. It would have worried you if it wasn't so damn amusing. He tried three different times to say something to you, but each time he fell silent. You're trying not to enjoy his shock, but it's too fresh. You pull back on his shoulder, and he gingerly walks down the stairs.

"You're serious?" he asks, a frown on his face.

You nod again. "Dead. C'mon, you can do this."

He sighs, lowers his head, and rakes his fingers through his hair. He presses the palm of his right hand against his forehead and looks up to you. You stare into the hesitant orange eyes before looking away and around.

"Then why can't we go inside?" he begins, standing up straight again. "It's right there." He motions towards the building.

"Nah, man. This is the best stage right out here."

You roll back your right sleeve and look down at your watch. If things didn't come together soon, then you two would have to go in. It would put a damper on your plans, and Dane would miss out on the sick life lesson you were trying to give him. You hear something drop and look up past your older brother. Someone in shabby wear is setting up his stand. Perfect, he showed up. A girl tags along behind him and helps along with the set up. Dane turns around to see what you're seeing.

"Oh no," you hear him mutter as he spots the street performers.

You chuckle and walk past him. "Oh yes."

You walk over to the duo and bend down, looking over their set up before the girl looks up at you.

"We're not ready yet," she says, turning her attention to her tote bag. "Just give us a few minutes."

"Actually, that's perfect. I need to ask you something," you reply.

The male looks up to you and stops what he's doing. "I've seen you around here a few times before," he says, squinting his eyes. He must have been trying to really remember you.

You nod. "Yeah, my brother and sister dragged me around this way a few times. Listen, help me out a second."

They give you their attention, and you place your hands into your pocket, turning your head to look over to Dane.

"You see that guy over there?"

They turn their head towards the other Strider.

"That's my big bro, and he's got a dilemma." You look back down to the other two. "I've heard you guys performing, and I was wondering if you guys can do any rap beats."

The girl nodded and glanced up to you from the corner of her eyes. "Yeah, we can do that. Want me to sing along or?"

You take out both your hands from your pockets and make a double "okay" sign. "Perfect."

You look to Dane and wave him over. He looks resigned but walks over to the three of you. When he's close enough, you throw an arm over his shoulders and pat him on the chest. He lets out a snort and glares at you at a side glance. You can deal with that. He was still in this.

It took a while for the duo to set up, but you were people watching in the meantime. Dane kept his back to the crowd and was staring down at the ground as he waited. Whenever you turned your head towards him, he side glanced to you before returning his gaze back to the ground. Nothing was really said between the two of you in the chunk of time everything took.

The guy stands up and hands a microphone to Dane. As you watch, the girl places a mic on your shoulder, grabbing your attention. You take it from her and turn, watching her take another out of the tote bag.

"How many of those did you pack?" you ask, genuinely curious.

"Enough in case of technical difficulties."

Nice. Serves a good point. You switch yours on and walk off to the side. Dane turns his over as though he has never seen one in his life. You see his thumb slide over the cylindrical body, and his shoulders relax in a sigh. Do or die, man. Do or die.

The male plugged in his beat machine, and you realize it looks like yours. It's probably an older model because you've never seen one of those before, but when the music starts flowing, that no longer matters. New or old, this guy creates some fly tunes and you can respect that. The girl, though, surprises the ever loving fuck out of you. Her speaking voice and her singing voice are on completely different planets. She starts off soft, but she starts to belt out a vocalization that absolutely floors you. Vegas is a place of many talents. You bob your head to the beat and feel her singing, trying to get a sense of when to jump in. It's a round of musical double dutch; you have to time it just right. When the girl lowered her mic away, you lift yours to your lips.

"Yeah. Who do you think I feel sorry for? You're not the kinda sap that I would likely ignore." You make your way towards Dane slowly, left hand moving with the rhymes coming out of your mouth. "You need a checklist or else you won't get past this. Or do I need to take you out like the Terminator," you step up to your brother and press the tips of your index and middle finger against his forehead, pushing him back, "if you wanna punk out, then _adiós—_see you later, gator."

You step backwards, and you see the girl lift her hand to her ear as she sings next to you. You glance over to her, and she opens her eyes, smiling. You look towards Dane. He rolls his head around until he's looking down at his microphone. With his head tilted down like that, you can see that his eyes are closed. You wonder, for a second, if he is gonna chicken out. That'd be pretty weak, but he surprises you.

He lifts the mic to his lips. "Drop it."

The music slows down and comes to a halt. The girl rocks on her heels and taps her fingers on the cylinder body of the device. She's waiting, almost like she knows what's coming next. You can recognize that anticipation anywhere.

"'Ey, DJ. Gimme a slow track," Dane adds on.

The male sitting on the ground gives a thumbs up and plays something smoother for your twin. You remember hearing this beat before. Maybe while you were walking along with Bro or Sis, but this song stuck with you the moment you heard it. The girl has the mic to her lips, and she starts singing an introduction. Yeah, it's feeling all too much like _déjà vu_. Dane bobs his head and body to the beat. He's getting ready to jump between the ropes.

"You're a fool if you don't think I was prepared, man. I'm bust these rhymes like only a Strider can. I think it's about time for this bud to bloom. You'll be dazzled as I rap you straight to your doom." He pauses, moving his head away from the mic. You see his chest puff up as he takes a deep breath.

_'Come on, man,_' you think. _'Represent._'

The beat drops suddenly. "Let me tell you that you won't get the best of me; I'll put all your cheap tricks on display. You're gonna rethink everything you've done; the battle's just begun—this is a total farce. Get gone; you've lost. You've come across—a foe that is like no other, son. There's no 'continue'; Dane Strider won."

You lower your head down and applaud him. The other two join you, and so do a small crowd of spectators that have gathered. You switch the mic to your left hand, lift it to your lips and place your free hand the bend of your arm.

"Well, ah, you see, like you said the battle's just begun. We wouldn't want to disappoint these folk, right?" You turn to the crowd to your left, who start "whoo"ing and applauding. You smirk and turn towards Dane, leaning your body to the side. "Beside, I don't die that easily." You raised your right hand, pointing towards the DJ. "Kick it."

You turn to Dane and see the smirk on his face. You walk forward and slap your hand with his, stepping away once the brotherly gesture is over.

"Sorry, man. I gotta destroy ya," you say into the mic.

"Yeah, bring it on."

You chuckle. "It's already been brought."

And just like that, you get lost in the music.


	8. Birds of a Feather

"It was good seeing you, man."

"Good to be seen."

"Alright, you take care, lil' man."

"Sure thing, Bro."

"Try not to get lost going into the terminal."

"Shut up, Sis."

You four exchange your good-byes as the announcer comes over the intercom. You hit Dave in the back on the shoulder, and he returns the gesture with a punch to your arm. He smirks, and the corner of your mouth twitches up. You shift your weight, and in unison, the two of you look out the massive windows towards the outside.

"I feel like you just got here," you say.

"Yeah, I know, but I gotta get back. Houston's useless without me."

"Gotta dazzle those homebodies with your Strider charm."

"Bro's not gonna do it."

"That's for sure."

You two fall silent, and Bro walks over to you both. He looks to Dave.

"'Ey, kiddo. The plane's not taking off for a few minutes. Hang here, and I'll be right back."

"Alright," Dave replies.

Bro ruffles your hair roughly, making you grimace. You watch him retreat in the reflection of the glass, but you don't turn around.

"What you're gonna do?" Dave's voice cuts through your thinking.

You glance over to him and then you shrug. "Not worry too much about shit. I'm gonna buckle down and figure out where to go."

"You know we're here for you, man."

"Yeah." You turn to face him and lift up your fist. "I know."

You touch fists and rest them against each other. You two lock shaded gazes. Dave moves his hand and holds the right side of his shades. You mirror his image and nod. He lowers his hand and looks out the window.

"This place didn't seem so bad, plus or minus a few things," he drawls.

"What'd you see?" you ask, feeling interested.

He shrugs lazily. "Hooker, money, a guy throwing up."

"Heh, you caught us on our slow days."

"That's pretty damn sad."

"Yeah, I know."

You feel hands fall on your shoulders, and you tip your head back, looking up to Sis who was staring down to you.

"Come on, kid. We gotta get out of the way," she says, squeezing your shoulders.

"We can't hang around in the lobby?"

"Yeah, we can."

"Cool."

Sis looks to Dave and flashes a quick half-smile to him before she walks away. You turn and watch her. Bro passes by her, and the two high five as the oldest Strider makes his way over. "C'mon, kid. Let's go." Dave looks to you and sighs.

"Well, I'll see you in a while," he begins, walking backwards.

"Maybe, I'll come see you next time." You move backwards too.

"You better."

"Feisty."

He smirks and turns away, following behind Bro towards the gate. You watch as you walk backwards slowly. It's an empty feeling, but it was fun while it lasted. You stop beside Sis, your eyes still focused on the gate. She reaches up and touches your arm, but you don't look down. Dave and Bro turn slightly and wave to you and Sis. You raise your hand, some fingers curled to your palm, and they disappear as they walk out of view.

"You okay, kid?" you hear Sis ask to your left.

You nod and look to her. "Yeah, no biggie. Just having a Lifetime moment right here."

She snorts and leans back, turning her head to the right to look out the window to the plane. "For a second, I thought you got yourself a heart."

"Nah, the Wizard's fresh out of those."

"Figures."

You two linger around for a while. The plane doesn't move until a good ten minutes later, but when it does, it moves forward and then lifts off into the sky. You lift your hand again, even though no one waves back.

"Make sure you take out the trash when you get a chance."

"Yeah, yeah," you call back before closing your bedroom door.

After leaving the airport, you and Sis stop and pick up something to eat. You're always down for a burger and for once you weren't paying. Nothing said good food like free food. You plunk down in your chair and turn on your computer monitor. Your computer was already running. You hardly ever turned it off these days. You open up the usual programs before you stand up, getting ready to work on some synths until...

Your Skype phone starts to ring, and you turn towards the monitor, walking back to see who it was.** turntechnologic is calling**. You sit in your seat and secure your clip-on mic in the neck of your shirt before accepting the call.

"Took you fucking long enough," Dave says, hand moving to his shades.

"What, did the baby miss me already?"

You move your hand towards your shades, and the two of you lift them at the same time. Messy fringes are shoved back as the lens are propped up on your foreheads. Red eyes meet your orange ones, and you lean back.

"Nah, it's nothing like that," Dave replies, reaching for something off-screen. "Just making sure you weren't crippled with sadness since I left."

He pulls a white take out box and opens it up. You notice it's Chinese food.

"You didn't get enough while you were here?"

Dane slurps some noodles into his mouth. "It's you're fault. I'm addicted. Too bad around us, there's only shitty knock offs. If I want something really good, I have to go forward into the city."

"Wanna cry about it, baby boy?"

"Not even close, jackass."

You chuckle and relax against your chair. You hold up the conversation while he eats. Dave gives grunts and garbled conversation. When he finishes, he throws back the plans he has for you when—not "if"—you come to Houston. All of it sounds like night after night of ruthless training. There didn't seem to be room on the schedule for, you don't know, _sleep_. You point this out to him, and he says very typically "Sleep is for the weak". You can't argue with that. The conversation steers in to back and forth epic metaphors that seem to be going nowhere. You two bust into laughter after a while, realizing the sheer ridiculousness of your statements. He looks up to the screen, red eyes glinting wickedly.

You smirk; he smirks. It's all good.


End file.
